


Impatience

by Szeszely



Category: Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M, Mario is a power bottom, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 02:42:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3834013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Szeszely/pseuds/Szeszely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's international break and Mario needs to have a fun night before going home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impatience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ledger_m](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ledger_m/gifts).



> This is my first PWP (I really hope it's not that bad), so as much as I would love to know what you think, please be kind with criticism. :)

 

 

International break is fun, Mario likes it. He meets with distant friends again, catches up with the gossip from other leagues and on top of all, he can play and fight for the glory of his country. There’s only one problem: he gets increasingly horny from the sex ban that friendly matches and Jogi’s horror training means.

Tomorrow they can take their flights back home, but the plane will land in Dortmund late in the afternoon and Mario doesn’t think he can stick it out that long. He guesses Marco knows it too, his legs keep moving up and down during the whole dinner. Mario puts a hand onto his thigh, squeezing slightly, and he feels the muscles jumping under his palm. God, he wants to touch that leg without the damn trousers so badly. They shared a room, a bed even, since the day they arrived and Mario didn’t get as much as an eyeful of his boyfriend, it’s not fair.

“You’re making such a mess, Mario.” Marco says after a glance and André bursts out laughing across the table.

Mario looks down at his plate and indeed, he applied several drops of sauce on the cloth. Well, he has been distracted.

“But you will clean it all up, right?” He drawls with unmissable innuendo and his hand on Marco’s leg moves closer to his crotch.

André laughs again and Mario gives him a look _,_ but Marco just clears his throat - a little nervously in Mario’s opinion - and swats away the hand on him, turning to his other side and starting a conversation with Mats.

So they are like that, right, later Marco will wish he acted otherwise. But it will be sooo much later… Mario wants to cry, they have to wait for Jogi’s last team talk or whatever and it’s not only needless, but boring too.

Their coach stands up and they turn silent, the last torture has begun. The speech doesn’t start bad and Mario actually pays attention for a few minutes, right until he spots sweat drops on Marco’s temple and the urge to jump him there and then and lick those off is too tempting to easily ignore it.

The minutes seem hours and the talk goes on for an eternity, Marco is still sexy as fuck and Mario is still drooling over the table. When they are finally, fucking finally let go, Mario skips up the stairs, flipping off Kevin who makes an awful joke about businesses on the toilet.

 

 

 

Marco follows Mario’s hurrying figure on their way to their room and sighs. He saw the signs and yes, he’s _very much_ in the same boat, but this isn’t the right time and place. He knows Mario is restless, his touchy-feely behaviour at dinner was obvious even to Christoph. But Marco can’t give in, no way, he has principles. No, he will sit in one of the armchairs and keep reading his book, surely won’t stare when Mario tries to seduce him. He _won’t._

Okay, maybe he does take a look, because that little shit is only in boxers when he arrives and even has the gall to grin like a fool. Marco forces himself to do his task and sits down, glues his eyes to the random page he opened, and reads, no matter that he has to start the first sentence ten times. There are a few minutes of tense silence and he gets his hopes up that maybe Mario will be nice.  But before he can properly relax, his book flies out of his hands, gets tossed to the floor by a sudden force, and a pair of hungry lips are pressed to his own.

“Your lap is mine.” Mario growls and Marco breaks out in goosebumps. “Nothing else deserves a place there.”

Marco has no time to recover from the surprise, he’s out of his shirt and Mario’s pulling on his pants within seconds. His eager hands slide in, strong and careless, and Marco hisses, knows that he has lost again.

“And here I thought you weren’t interested. But you are, aren’t you?” Mario smirks, his eyes gleaming dangerously.

“I’m not.” Even Marco himself wouldn’t believe that, his underwear is already stuffed to the brim.

Mario shakes his head, waves a finger in front of Marco’s face. “We will see what you say the next time I ask.”

And he’s on his knees in the blink of an eye, pulls every garment off Marco’s crotch with one swift move and takes the head of Marco’s leaking cock into his mouth.

“Fuck.” Marco cries out, turns his face to the ceiling. “No, Mario, we shouldn’t…”

Mario digs his nails into his thigh, swirls his tongue around and Marco’s voice breaks, his lucid thoughts vanish at breakneck speed. And then, as he has done a hundred times before and will do a thousand more, Mario pulls him in, deeper and deeper, all seven inches down.

Marco’s moan is muffled by the hand he clasped at his mouth, his hips buck up and he hears a small choking sound, knows he should have stayed still. But Mario takes it, he would take anything, Marco knows he would.

A hand strokes circles on his knee, moves up his leg and _closer_ , so slow and teasing. Marco shivers, grabs a handful of Mario’s hair.

“Oh Sunny…” He groans, raises his hips for more friction even though he knows he won’t get it till _he_ doesn’t want it.

Mario pulls off but doesn’t let go, this time it’s his fingers around Marco, squeezing and stroking relentlessly.

“Look at me.” He demands and Marco obeys, how can he not?

“Watch.” Mario orders, all blown pupils and shameless obscenity, and Marco nearly combusts from the sight. He nods, uncapable for anything else and gets a short, delighted smile before Mario dives in again.

He knows Marco, knows him too well, God, why did he ever let this little devil into his bed? His lips are full and swollen red, a perfect circle around his length and so, so eager to suck and lick and _take_.

“I’m gonna… gonna come” Marco grunts, thinks his heartbeat will never turn back to normal after this. Mario hums, sends waves of pleasure along Marco’s spine and doesn’t stop bobbing until Marco tries to press him down, all his muscles tense, so fucking ready for jumping over the edge.

 

 

 

Mario feels the heat radiating from his boyfriend, that tamed perfection, all at his mercy. He missed this, Christ, it was only a week but it felt like fifty years of celibacy. Marco’s skin is so fresh and white under his hands, Mario loves it, even more when those ivory fingers scratch his shoulders red, pleading for release. He smiles around him, licks once more, then raises his head.

Marco’s eyes are full of hurt and despair, his hands still grabbing for Mario, hips stuttering in Mario’s firm grip that holds him to the chair.

“Uh-oh. Sorry, darling.” He stands up, knees popping, and ruffles Marco’s sweaty hair. “Tell me when you are interested.”

“I am, please! Mario, I lied, I want you now.”

Shrugging, Mario swaggers over to the bed and lies down on his back with his knees apart. He lets out a satisfied sigh and starts humming a song he heard in the radio and couldn’t get out of his mind.

“You cannot leave me in this state, please finish it.” Marco’s pleading voice is music to his ears, he will surely get a nice fuck, Marco’s so riled up.

“Come here and finish it yourself.”

A deep breath, another, then Mario finds himself under Marco’s naked body, the clothes have been ditched somewhere between the chair and the bed.

“I hate you.” Marco mutters and Mario lurches up, kisses him and catches Marco’s lower lip between his teeth. He pulls back and breaks the skin a little, licks away the few drops of blood from Marco’s mouth.

“Do you need prep?”

Mario rolls his eyes, shucks off his underwear. “You know I’m ready.”

He changes their positions and straddles Marco, reaches for the lube he placed on the bedside table. “A few minutes can never hurt though.”

The strange, tickling sensation Mario waited for is there when Marco slides two lubed fingers in and Mario grabs his wrist for a moment before nodding and letting him move. Marco looks into his eyes for reassurance, always the vulnerable one, and Mario smiles, it’s a bit shaky but will do for now. He glances at Marco’s abs, traces a finger over them and watches as the muscles tense under his touch, Marco’s cock twitches against his own.

“Another.”

Mario murmurs, presses kisses to Marco’s forehead, relishes in the feeling of the strong arm around his waist, fingers inside and fragrant locks of wet hair under his lips. He works the third digit in, quickly and all too ready for more, and slams his hips back, gasps when a fingertip grazes his prostate. Marco’s other hand moves from his back to his face, his thumb strokes Mario’s eyebrows.

“You’re so hot.” Marco whispers and nips at his chin as Mario raises himself enough that the fingers slip out.

“As always. Now flip me over.”

Mario closes his eyes for a moment when his back hits the mattress again, Marco’s palms run along his sides, knead at his butt, then drop down to his knees. They kiss and Marco rolls on a condom before he bends Mario’s legs, spreads them wider and makes place for his hips.

 

 

 

The noise of their teammates drifts in from outside and Marco freezes, his flushed face loses some colour when he thinks about getting caught in this position. Mario pinches one of his nipples, his favourite punishment, and Marco winces, hisses against Mario’s lips.

“Sunny, they will hear us.”

Mario looks truly annoyed this time, reaches down and gives Marco a firm stroke.

“If they can hear, you’d better keep your pretty mouth shut.” He says, emphasizes the point with biting into Marco’s shoulder. “Get in me already.”

Marco can’t say no, he was never able to. He nuzzles into Mario’s neck as he lines up, takes a breath and smells the slippery skin, the musk, cologne and Mario’s unique scent entice his senses. He presses down, moves forth, with one hand under the small of Mario’s back, lifting him up. Mario’s panting fastens when the tip is in and Marco stills, intends to give time for his boyfriend to adjust. But of course as if on cue, Mario reaches around him, grips his ass and pulls him in, so fast and greedy for it.

“Fuck me, Marco.” That’s all he says and doesn’t wait with wriggling and rolling his hips on Marco’s cock.

They move together, Marco’s thrusts a counter-rhythm to Mario’s, and the bed shakes under their sweaty bodies. Mario crosses his legs on Marco’s back and takes one of his hands, entwines their fingers whilst Marco holds on for dear life.

“Harder.” Marco hears - a needy, but controlling sound that never fails to drive him crazy. He shifts, gives a messy kiss to his boyfriend and suddenly… Mario gasps, turns his head and closes his eyes. A relieved grin spreads across Marco’s face, he found it.

Mario pants, his chest rises and falls rapidly and he bites into his own lip to hold back his moans, but his look remains tough and Marco can hardly keep the contact as those eyes bore into his owns. They pick up the pace and the room is filled with sounds that probably the entire hotel has heard by now. Creak – bang - moan, creak – bang –moan…

“Give me… hmm, give me your hand.”

That’s the last order, Marco knows and obeys, lets Mario guide his hand onto his cock. A stroke, a squeeze, Marco’s thumb presses to the slit and Mario comes. His muscles clench and release around Marco and that, combined with the moans falling off Mario’s lips, tips Marco over the edge.

He shakes through it and collapses onto Mario, unable to slide out or to move in general, and he can’t give a fuck that they are sticky from cum. Mario embraces him, breathes into his ear and caresses the back of his neck with trembling fingers.

“You’ve been so good. So fucking good.”

Marco replies with a whimper, trying hard not to doze off from the peaceful heat that Mario emits. He works up the energy to raise his head and look down at his boyfriend’s tired face, bracing himself on his elbows, and swipes back the errant locks from Mario’s forehead. This is the only time when Mario lets all his defences down and nothing else, but raw honesty gleams in his eyes as he stares at Marco. God, Marco loves him so much.

“Shower?” Mario sounds like he has been screaming for an hour, voice thick and husky.

Marco nods and moves to stand up, but he gets pulled back by the wrist. That look he knows so well and can’t help a smile.

“You want me to carry you, right?”

Mario’s lips curve up and Marco sighs, gathers him into his arms. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for his Sunny, even if his teammates will tease him the next day for the huge bruise he gets from falling over.

 

 

 


End file.
